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Not long ago, I found myself at an athletic breakfast. Having long supported a broader-based, lower-rate income tax, with fewer tax preferences, I was dismayed to discover a letter from an administrator requesting all present to protest against the new reform on the grounds that by weakening tax preferences it would reduce contributions to the University in general and sports in particular. To this special interest – all interests are special to those who care about them – one can add, among numerous others, museums, opera companies, and sports franchises. Indeed, until I started writing this review, I was unaware of how tax preferences help increase the salaries of athletes. These franchises make substantial income from box seats bought by corporations that can write them off as business expenses. Absent this subsidy, franchise income, hence allowable salaries, would be less. Do we want to subsidize athletes? Or owners? How is this to be avoided while protecting the busboys, waiters, and other people who depend on the ablity of businessmen to write off meals and drinks?

I wish to consider the possibility that a good part of the opposition to the main lines of American foreign policy is based on deep-seated objections to the political and economic systems of the United States. This is not to say that existing policy is necessarily wise or that there may not be good and sufficient reasons for wishing to change it. Indeed, at any time and place, the United States might well be overestimating the threat from the Soviet Union or using too much force. What I wish to suggest is that across-the-board criticism of American policy as inherently aggressive and repressive, regardless of circumstance – a litany of criticism so constant that it does not alert us to the need for explanation – has a structural basis in the rise of a political culture that is opposed to existing authority.To the extent that this criticism is structural, that is, inherent in domestic politics, the problem of fashioning foreign policies that can obtain widespread support is much more difficult than it is commonly perceived to be. For if the objection is to American ways of life and, therefore, "to the government for which it stands," only a transformation of power relationships at home, together with a vast redistribution of economic resources, would satisfy these critics. If the objection is not only to what we do but, more fundamentally, to who we are, looking to changes in foreign policy to shore up domestic support is radically to confuse the causal connections and, therefore, the order of priorities.

A long time ago I received a letter from Rex Stout inviting me to join the Authors' Guild, a letter no doubt sent to all who had books published. I didn't join because I didn't think of myself primarily as a writer, but as an aspiring scholar who merely set out the results of investigations that, so to speak, wrote themselves. Writing was incidental, not essential. Some years later a similar letter arrived. By then, having spent several hours a day writing most days, I joined. I had become a writer, if not by accomplishment, at least by occupation. Only recently, however, have I thought of myself as a writer by vocation, as a person who cares about the quality and craft of writing as inseparable from the content of whatever I am trying to communicate. Indeed, for me, writing has become an integral part of thinking.